Legally Binding (5 page)

W
ith Mr. Brennbach’s
hands over her mouth and across her neck, she felt cradled. Just like earlier, when he’d caught her on the street.

Except now, the only danger was Mr. Brennbach himself.

He thrust his hips, skewering her on his cock and making her whimper. She couldn’t know for sure without looking, but the heavy fullness inside her and the uncomfortable stretching of her entrance suggested he was the largest man she’d ever been with.

And that thrilled her even more.

Her moans were stifled by his palm, but keeping quiet was impossible. His girth was slick inside her, thank goodness, or he would have ripped her apart.

“Is this what you came here for?” he growled in her ear. “Are you happy now?”

She couldn’t help laughing. The pressure of his palm, which was wet from her mouth, pressed her lips against her teeth.

She inhaled through her nose. Oh god, she loved the way he smelled. Was it simple association, because he’d caught her—saved her from injury and humiliation? Or was it some primal chemistry thing?

Either way, she was powerless against it.

He walked them both forward, and she found herself leaning on the desk again, her palms flat on the cool, smooth surface as she arched her back, bracing for more fucking.

His cock was shoved deep inside her. She missed his hand over her mouth, and she wished he would start thrusting. She wished he’d figure out why she had a clit.

What she got instead was a finger in her ass.

Her eyes and mouth flew open. “What are you doing?”

“Shut up.” As large as his finger was, it was still smaller than a cock—and much smaller than
his
cock. He finger-fucked her ass.

“That’s not doing anything for me,” she gasped, briefly squeezing her eyes closed. The intrusion felt good, but also too intimate.

“Liar. I’m inside you. I can feel your wet little pussy begging for more.”

What an arrogant asshole
, she thought, but she couldn’t deny the inappropriate rush of pleasure and the accompanying heat coiling in her pussy, which was stuffed full with his unmoving cock.

She started to get up.

He pushed her back into position and held her there, his hand rudely against the side of her face. “Do you want me to take my cock away? I could walk into any bar in the city and pick up a dozen women just like you.”

He moved his hand, and she tried to bite him. Laughing, he evaded her teeth and walloped her ass so hard that her foot kicked up. “Answer my question. Shall I go find some other easy piece of ass to sink my dick into?”

“No,” she spat. “Having hate-sex with you is better than photocopying.”

“You don’t know me well enough to hate me. Not yet, but you will. And this? It’s coming out of your break time.”

“Bastard,” she hissed.

He laughed hard, his body shaking, and hers, too, because of all the ways he was inside her.

M
r. Brennbach fucked
her nice and slow.

She had never been so close to orgasming from so little clitoral stimulation.

With each press of his hand, her entire body flattened against the table.

He picked up speed. Her pussy spasmed and squeezed him, but she wasn’t coming. Not yet. She would need more.

Three fingers tunneled painfully into her ass and began ramming insistently.

After a moment, she gave in, arched her back, and allowed him to stretch her hole. He was going to do it anyway. She got even wetter.

He groaned, and his body went stiff. His demands, his orgasm, and the swelling of his cock almost sent her over the edge.

But in the end, it didn’t.

She relaxed against the table. Her cheeks and forehead were damp with perspiration.

Her boss reached down, between their bodies, then he was pulling out of both holes. Whimpering, she glanced back just as he was turning away, the spent condom in his hand.

“Don’t move,” he said.

She wondered if she should tell him that she hadn’t gotten off. Or maybe he knew he’d failed, and she’d only be embarrassing him further?

He pushed onto the side of the bookcase, and it swung out. From her current position leaning over the desk, there was no hope of seeing what lay on the other side, but a moment later she heard water running.

When he came back out, he was completely put back together—cock away, hair damp and slicked away from his face, tie nice and straight.

Apparently, he’d gotten his, and now he was finished.

Irritated, she started to push away from the desk, but Mr. Brennbach stopped her with a single word. “No.”

His cell phone buzzed. He looked at it, then picked up his office phone and pushed a button. A moment later, he said, “Raphael’s in the building. Apparently it didn’t go well. Grab him and come right to my office.”

He hung up.

“Um, excuse me,” she said. “I’m sure this is fun for you, but I don’t need everyone seeing my bare pussy.”

He leaned on the edge of the desk, and his hand came to rest on her head, covering her jaw and neck. She could smell that scent again. What the hell was wrong with her? Why was she so undone by him?

“It won’t be everyone,” he said. “Only Trent and Raphael.”

Trent was Mr. Banno; she knew that. “Who is Raphael?”

“The first one you tried to seduce,” he said, and her heart stopped beating.

She didn’t have time to argue with him, because a moment later the door opened.

Mr. Brennbach’s touch on her head grew firmer. She became aware of how exposed she was, her fluids drying on her pussy and thighs, her skirt hiked over her hips, and Mr. Brennbach holding her in this submissive position.

The door closed, rather loudly, it seemed.

No one said anything. Maisie shifted her weight in her shoes, trying to keep her toes and the arches of her feet from cramping.

“What the hell, Ethan.”

Maisie was pretty sure Mr. Banno was the one who had spoken.

“Friends, this is the new submissive.”

Maisie’s heart leapt in her chest.

Someone groaned. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

Mr. Brennbach—Ethan—did something that caused his hold on her to lighten, just for a moment. She could have squirmed free… if she’d wanted.

“Hands behind your back,” he said. He yanked up her panties somewhat. She couldn’t see, but she could feel the elastic’s weird angle, and the fabric was bunched unevenly.

Slowly, she pulled her hands back. Her palms were sweaty, and one of them made a high-pitched squeak as she dragged it down the desk. She had to rock her torso to turn her arms around.

Ethan grabbed her wrists and pinned them to the small of her back. Instantly, she felt herself getting wet again.

“Goddamn,” a breathless male voice said. Then Mr. Lattimore’s face was beside hers. “Are you ok?” he asked.

She nodded and bit back a smile. “More than ok.”

His eyes searched hers, and she saw hunger there, the desire to believe her. “You know there are three of us, right?”

Oh god.
She hadn’t thought of it like that, hadn’t known if Ethan was going to merely humiliate her or what, but now she was starting to get the picture.

The smile broke through. “Really, I’ve never been better.”

It seemed to put his fears at ease, because the little crease between his eyebrows abated some. Then it reappeared. “Have you ever done this sort of thing—”

“Relax, Raphael,” Ethan said. “There were developments in Trent’s office that you don’t know about.”

Raphael straightened. She turned her head a little but was only able to see from his elbows down. She could see Mr. Banno—Trent—too. Or part of him, at least.

Then Trent turned his body slightly to the side, and she caught an eyeful of the enormous hardened bulge she’d only glimpsed earlier.

Dear god.

Trent was fucking huge.

Her mouth was watering so much that she had to swallow.

Raphael was scrawling something on Ethan’s legal pad. His pen loudly scraped across the page, which he then ripped out and placed on the desk beside her. “Sign this.”

She read the hastily composed lines—not an easy feat given her position. It was a non-disclosure agreement with some liability release wordage. Ethan released one of her wrists, and she signed as best she could.

“Even I know that won’t hold up in court,” she said as Ethan roughly pulled her arm back.

Raphael picked up the paper and folded it in half. “Don’t be so sure.”

“I’m not going to sue you. Anyway, I heard you never lose, so what would be the point?” She said the last bit in a resigned tone, and to her delight, they laughed.

Even Ethan.

The tension in the room dissipated.

“Let’s see her,” Raphael said, and joy quickened her pulse.

Ethan relaxed his grip on her wrists. He slid his hand under her shoulder and brought her vertical.

She was still facing the desk, the back of the office. The skirt was still bunched up over her hips.

Looking down, she saw that her twisted panties cut a line across the swollen, delicate mound of her pussy. One of her lips was gently pinched beneath the elastic and held open, revealing a flash of deeper color and the pale pink tip of her clit.

When Ethan turned her around, a thrill of anticipation hummed through her veins.

And when Trent and Raphael saw her…

The expressions on their faces, the surprise and instant desire, made for a deeply satisfying moment. It was even better than when she imagined running into that nasty Heather, when Maisie would introduce her obviously recognizable A-list celebrity boyfriend and flash the gargantuan rock on her ring finger.

But unlike
that
fantasy, this one was actually happening.

She met Trent’s eyes. His surprise had given way to something far more enticing.

Dominance.

Trent’s gaze pinned her in place as he yanked off his tie. She swallowed as he approached her. “We’ll have to play with you later,” he said hoarsely, pulling her arms forward.

Her fingers accidentally trailed across her pussy, and she gasped and shuddered.

“Damn, Ethan,” Raphael said. “You didn’t let her come?”

Let
her come? What was that about?

Ethan shrugged. “She didn’t earn it, and you know how I feel about setting a good precedent.”

T
rent slowly dragged
his thumb across her chin and lower lip.

Up close, she had to admit that he was the most attractive man she’d ever seen. He should have been an action hero, not a lawyer; cast him in a movie, and she’d be there for every single showing.

He used his tie to quickly and efficiently bind her wrists.

“You’re going to wait over here,” he said, grabbing her by the shoulders and steering her toward the credenza. “Stand quietly. We have business to discuss.” Trent’s tone was detached and professional. The warmth of earlier had completely vanished.

“Can I take off my shoes?” she asked hopefully.

“Of course,” Raphael said.

But then Trent said, “No, and I’ll explain why later, Raphael. You’ve missed a lot.”

“Apparently.” Raphael sounded irritated.

Pouting, Maisie bent her bound arms and brought them up so the men could appreciate her disheveled clothing and the scandalous state of her pussy.

But the bastards weren’t paying the least bit of attention.

In fact, Raphael was walking out.

She wondered if they’d done this with other women in the company. Obviously they’d shared a woman before if she was their “new submissive.” What Ethan had said—about Trent wanting to wait until her probation was over…

That suggested she wasn’t the first.

How was she going to find out more without “gossiping,” she wondered.

The thought started as a tiny seed, but it burrowed into her self-esteem. Really, what did it matter? She didn’t have any illusions that this was anything more than sex. She liked all three of the men well enough—to fuck.

But she didn’t know them, didn’t know the first thing about them.

Other than that they were hot.

And rich.

And dominant.

And very naughty bosses.

New submissive.
Hm.

Ethan opened a drawer in his filing cabinet. He pulled out a thick accordion file and started to hand it to Trent, then paused. “I’m assuming Raphael updated you on the Ballystock case?”

A dark look crossed Trent’s face. “My gut says that if Davina goes back to her husband again, it’s over. He’ll kill her rather than let her go.”

The door opened and Raphael entered, carrying an elegant briefcase. At that moment, he looked like a model-wannabe-actor trying out for the role of hotshot young attorney. Maisie snickered.

All three men looked at her.

“No offense, Maisie, but…” Raphael turned toward Ethan. “I don’t think she should be here.”

“Lock the door,” Ethan said.

He walked toward Maisie, his gaze intense. She realized that she hadn’t thought about his scars for the last fifteen minutes, but now there was no avoiding them, not when he was so close and facing her. His hand gently touched her cheek. “You’ve signed papers that legally bind you to silence.”

“I have,” she said. She glanced at Raphael, who seemed uncomfortable. “And I understand why you’re hesitant. In fact… I think… Honestly, I think it’s better if I leave. You don’t know me, and you don’t know if I’m trustworthy.”

And if something bad happened, she didn’t want to get blamed.

“Actually, we do know you,” Ethan said. “Trent had one of our investigators dig into your past. We had to be sure you weren’t sent here by another firm, to spy.”

“People do that?” she asked.

“Some do,” Raphael said. The way his grip tightened on his briefcase, Maisie wondered if he meant Mr. Ballystock’s lawyer, the one who’d tricked them into poring over the transcripts.

“Maisie.” Ethan stroked one of her curls, then dipped his fingers into her hair. He held her face in both hands and stared into her eyes.

Her bound forearms brushed against his body, and she could feel his erection on the back of her hand—just for a moment, but it inflamed her need.

“What were you looking at this morning?” he asked, his voice low and intimate.

“Nothing,” she said. “I was trying to see the top of the building.”

“Why?”

“Because… I wondered if it was possible to see the office from the street, and I was running early.”

“Is that the only reason?”

She nodded. “I guess I was savoring the moment. You know by now that my last job wasn’t very glamorous. Even though I’m just one of several executive assistants here, this is still a step up for me.” She stopped short of mentioning Heather.

“Ok,” he said. “It’s just that I’d never seen anyone so interested in a skyscraper before. You were oblivious. I knew you were going to fall.”

And then he kissed her.

He tasted faintly of coffee, and his lips, at first gentle, became insistent as the attraction between them turned electric.

Maisie heard a click, someone locking the door.

She wanted to bring her hands up, to throw her arms around Mr. Brennbach—Ethan. His cock having been inside her meant he was Ethan, and his kiss especially meant it.

She was aware of the right side of his face. His lips were a little firmer on that side, and maybe the skin was a touch cooler.

He ended the kiss, then turned away from her. “I trust her,” he said.

“I do, too,” Trent said. He winked at Maisie. “Our investigators are very good at what they do.”

Raphael shrugged. “I had to bring it up,” he said apologetically. “Mrs. Ballystock’s situation is sensitive, and her husband is playing dirty.”

God, it was impossible to reconcile this guarded man with the wild guitar player in the photo.

She nodded and tried to act like she didn’t care if they sent her away or not, but she was starting to become curious. These men didn’t seem like much fazed them, but they were on edge.

So was she; the shoes were killing her.

With a little moan, she shifted her weight to her left foot and raised the right one, giving it a respite. Oooh, that felt so much better. She switched up.

“Stop that,” Trent said. “You’re too damned fidgety. You can move once every sixty seconds.” He pointed at the clock, then turned to the desk, where Raphael was unloading the contents of his briefcase.

“What’s this?” Ethan growled.

He ripped an 8x10 photo from Raphael’s hand.

“What it looks like.” Raphael finished transferring out what he needed, and he closed the briefcase and set it on the floor. “Norm is still stalking her.”

“Davina Ballystock gave this to you?” Ethan asked.

Raphael shook his head. “No, Norm did. He claims someone mailed it anonymously to his house, but come on. He’s only been living there for a few weeks. Look at it. The angles, the framing, it’s all identical to the earlier photos. He’s still stalking her, and he wants her to know it. He thinks his money will protect him.”

“How is Davina taking it?” Ethan asked, studying the picture, and Raphael shrugged in lieu of an answer.

“We knew she’d never press charges or take out a restraining order.” Trent had leaned against the desk. His shoulders hunched forward as he frowned at the floor. “Maybe we should have handled this through—”

“No,” Ethan said sharply. He and Trent immediately looked at Maisie.

She jerked her eyes away, but the men weren’t stupid; they had to know she’d been paying attention.

She cleared her throat. She was aware that she was half-naked and might as well have been chained to her spot near the credenza. “I heard the deposition, and I know the housekeeper is afraid for her life. There must have been fifteen different incidents that she was asked about. Detailed incidents. And she couldn’t remember a single one.”

When she stopped speaking, the room was completely silent.

“You can trust me,” she said. “That’s all I meant.”

They didn’t say a word.

She should have kept her damned mouth shut. She found herself shifting her weight from side to side.

Trent crossed the room. He gathered up a handful of her curls and pulled her head back. “I told you once per minute,” he said, “and you’re dancing around like you’re at a club. On your knees.”

He didn’t push her, but he certainly helped her into position. He was a little rough. It hurt a bit.

She didn’t mind at all.

His cock hadn’t still been hard, but within seconds it was pushing at the front of his pants. “I need someone’s tie,” he said. When he got one—blue, Ethan’s—he wadded it up and shoved it in her mouth. “Quiet,” he said. “Stay quiet.”

The tie smelled of Ethan. She wanted to work her fingers free and soothe her neglected pussy, but that would count as movement; she didn’t dare.

Her bosses were crowded together, talking in hushed tones. In less than a minute, they’d reached some kind of agreement.

Maisie didn’t know what it was, but clearly they’d discussed this before and had a contingency plan in place.

Ethan looked over at her. “Maisie,” he said with a smile. “How would you like to stay at the Beaumont tonight?”

Gagged and unable to speak, she nodded enthusiastically.

A night in an expensive hotel with her three bosses? What could be better?